Pain
by pdljmpr6
Summary: You ever had a migraine? Eliot has. More than he'd like to remember. But this time he's not alone. Eliotcentric multichap, angst, team!fic and Medical BS to keep things interesting.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Another new story?? Are you freakin' kidding me?? Good lord. I spoil you guys, you know that? But it's because I love you. So spoil me too and review! So the premise of this one is something I read that said a side effect of repeated blows to the head is frequent migrains. And who do you know that gets hit in the head more than dear, sweet Eliot?? That's right. And many many thanks to my beta on this one **_fluerlb _**and her unnaturally quick turn around. lol. Enjoy! -pj

* * *

It started as a slight bending of the world in the corner of his eyes and he closed them quickly before the dizziness could get worse and make him stumble. He locked his knees and held back a wince when the normal sound of a chair scraping across the wood floor nearly made him gasp in pain.

Eliot recognized all the signs and groaned inwardly.

His stomach dropped when he realized this was only the beginning.

The glancing blow to his jaw that had jarred his head back into a metal panel two hours ago had probably been what caused the flare up. It hadn't been enough to cause any serious damage, but it had rung his bell.

Apparently more than he thought.

Eliot scowled, knowing what was coming and that there was nothing he could do about it. Well, there was, and if he was able to do it right then and there it would have worked.

But walking out in the middle of a meeting, leaving the Duchess and her blonde assistant without protection, so he could get to his medication would certainly blow the con. That would be no consolation to him in a few hours when he was ready to tear off his own head and bash it against the wall, but for right now, it kept him rooted to his spot, trying to make his pain and apprehension come across as menacing.

Stupid arms dealers and their stupid long-ass negotiations that turned into flirtatious luncheons.

He was gonna kill Nate for this.

If he didn't kill himself first.

Shit.

* * *

"Hardison how's our break down coming?" Nate asked as they pulled into the parking lot of his building.

Eliot clenched his fists to keep from wincing when Nate's loud voice was amplified in his ear and reached up to pull out his com before Hardison could respond, protocol be damned.

He opened his eyes, which had been closed on the ride back to the office an attempt to push off the inevitable. It hadn't worked. Parker was in the back with him and he guessed Sophie and Nate had assumed he was asleep like the thief next to him and tried not to disturb them by whispering the entire time.

He'd appreciated the whispering, but they really should've known better. Eliot rarely slept when other people were around and never in a moving vehicle.

He hissed as he climbed out of the car and shielded his eyes from the evening sun, his stomach lurching forebodingly.

_Hell no_, he warned it.

Eliot trudged after the others and entered the rear elevator with Parker, Sophie and Nate, eager to change his clothes and get to sleep. He ignored their attempts to draw him into conversation on the ride up, focusing solely on keeping his steps steady and his stomach in check.

Once inside Nate's apartment, Eliot made a beeline for the closet where he kept a black bag on the top shelf, small enough to keep in a glove box or backpack. He usually kept it on him at all times, but hadn't been able to bring it because of his role in the con. If he'd been smart, he would have left it in the car, but he'd berate himself for that later.

Bag in hand, Eliot started to turn back toward the door, only to find Parker standing right in his path.

"We should go to that sushi restaurant for dinner," she grinned, "I hear they sell fish heads."

Nate looked at her from the living room.

"Fish heads? Really?" Hardison shook his head and then drew Nate's attention back to the screens where the 'hinky financials' he'd found were displayed.

"No Parker, I don't want to go for sushi," Eliot growled. Between his head, his stomach and Parker, his patience was nonexistent. He was about to try to move past her when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him and keeping himself upright became a very loose concept.

He flailed out for the wall but misjudged the distance and felt himself starting to fall. On something soft.

Parker's eyes widened when Eliot's weight suddenly started shifting toward her and, surprised, she quietly crumpled beneath him with a soft, "oomph," and a frown.

Eliot made an effort to roll off her quickly and screwed his eyes shut again, barely restraining himself from pressing against them with the heels of his hands.

"Eliot?" Parker asked quietly, crouching beside the hitter with a look that would have been a scowl on anyone else, but was 'concern' on her.

Sophie entered the room from the bathroom and gasped, seeing Parker on her knees bent over the hitter, who was lying prone beside her.

"Nate!" Sophie shrieked, running across the room toward the pair.

Parker was the only one close enough to hear Eliot grumble, "for the love of God, quit yellin' under his breath. She tilted her head at the look of pain that flashed across his face.

Nate was at her side even before Sophie, and Parker looked more than happy to jump away and make room for him.

Hardison, attracted by the commotion, appeared a moment later and Parker slapped a hand over his mouth when he took a deep breath to say something that would have undoubtedly been dubbed 'too loud'.

"Eliot, are you alright?" Nate asked quietly, laying one hand against the hitter's side as he bent over to see his face.

Eliot's frown deepened, uncomfortable with the extra attention, "Hardison gimme your sunglasses."

Hardison immediately reached up protectively to the sunglasses perched atop his head, but Parker was faster, swiping them and handing them to Nate before he could get out a word of protest.

Nate didn't understand the correlation between the hitter lying on the ground and needing the hacker's sunglasses, but if it was what Eliot wanted, he would do it. Eliot made no move to grab the glasses so Nate gently slid them onto his face. They were dark and mirrored and Eliot took a few deep breaths before he sat up and started to stand, shrugging off helpful hands as he did so.

"Thanks," he mumbled, bending over to pick up his bag and heading for the door.

Sophie's delicate features were crumpled in an anxious frown.

"Eliot, are you alright?" she called out.

Eliot nodded, not turning around.

"Are you sure? Because-"

"Sophie so help me-" he snapped, turning around to glare at the grifter. He closed his eyes and forced a deep breath on himself.

"I'm just tired, alright? I'll see you in a few days."

Sophie started after him again as he got to his door but Nate reached out to grab her elbow.

He shook his head briefly, whispering "Not now."

Eliot would never willingly hurt any of them, Nate knew. But…better not to push their luck with the hitter was in this mood.

Sophie reluctantly nodded, understanding, and Parker hugged her arms around herself, confused.

Hardison raised his hands in a 'what is this world coming to' gesture and shook his head, "Dude just took off with my sunglasses. They were special order, man."

* * *

_TBC- So...what do you thiiiiink...__  
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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So late. So tired...must post...must respond to reviews...must...get...review fix...Enjoyzzzzz Zzzzz... -pj

* * *

Eliot stood over his sink, his face dripping wet. He'd turned off all the lights he could in the apartment and was bracing himself against the sink, eyes shut tight.

He'd downed a handful of painkillers already but knew it was futile at this point. He was going to have to ride this out, plain and simple.

Great.

His entire head was throbbing now as if caught in a vice and his stomach rolled every time a lamp passed into his peripheral vision. He sighed and reached out blindly for a towel, knowing his hands were trembling.

There was no getting around it now, he couldn't work like this. And he couldn't stay here while he waited for it to be over.

* * *

"I just think I should go check on him," Sophie insisted, pacing in her bare feet, she'd shed her 3-inch Manolo heels at the door.

"Yeah, he really sounded like he wanted company," Hardison commented sarcastically, nursing a soda at the island counter.

Parker sat on the counter beside him, her legs swinging to and fro, hitting the cabinet doors rhythmically, a cold beer in her hands.

"But what if he's hurt more than he's letting on?" The thief asked, giving a concerned look to the hacker, and then Sophie.

"He's always hurt worse than he's letting on," Nate commented, entering the room from the spiral staircase of his loft, "Parker, chairs are for sitting, not countertops."

"Then we should do something, shouldn't we?" Parker frowned as if she had not been aware of that particular fact about Eliot. She probably hadn't.

"Not now, no," Nate shook his head, Hardison nodding in agreement.

"Finally," he sighed, "someone with a healthy sense of self- preservation."

Sophie rolled her eyes and Parker glared at him.

"If he's hurt, then we should help him."

"Look, Eliot's used to taking care of himself. Lets' just," Nate held his hands up in a calming motion, "give him his space. Parker, you can go check on him in an hour."

Parker brightened a little at this and Sophie relaxed, swiping Parker's beer to take a sip.

Hardison just shook his head, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

Eliot stumbled around his apartment, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, tears springing to his eyes as the pain spread from his skull to his spine and across his shoulders, intensifying with every step. He found if he kept his eyes closed, the dizziness was easier to ignore and he allowed himself a groan only because there was no one around to hear him.

He kept one shoulder to the wall and shuffled to the couch, dropping down with a sigh. He rested his head against the back of the couch and reached for his phone and dialed a number by memory.

"Mike, it's me," he rasped, wincing when the man's enthusiastic greeting almost sent him reeling, "yeah, listen, I'm headin' into town, get the place ready for me, will ya'?"

He heard the affirmative answer and hung up, dialing a second number to arrange for a cab. He wasn't so irresponsible as to drive in this state. Then one more call to arrange his flight.

Sometimes, he'd found, it was an advantage to own a private plane. Even if he rarely used it.

That done, Eliot allowed himself to rest for a few minutes, though it did nothing to ease the pain, and then stood when he received the call that his cab was waiting. He stood to get his own sunglasses, the ones made especially for such an occasion, and place Hardison's on the counter with a note for Parker, who would undoubtedly be breaking into his apartment soon looking for him.

* * *

The team sat around Nate's apartment one hour and ten minutes after his outburst. Hardison sat at the kitchen table, surfing the internet. Sophie sat across from him, pretending to read a book and Nate stared at the television where a game of some kind was playing. They all looked up when Parker walked into the apartment, her hair braided in one messy plait on the side of her head, her black leggings and green tennis shoes shifting nervously on the floor.

"What is it Parker?" Sophie asked, both she and Nate standing to meet her.

"I think Eliot's gone."

This brought Hardison's head up sharply and Nate and Sophie both converged on the small thief near the door.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

Parker held up a torn piece of white paper. "This was on his counter."

Sophie reached out, taking the note to read aloud, "Taking a few days off. Be back before the week is up. Don't worry."

"Short and not sweet," Hardison said from the couch, "sounds like Eliot."

"These are yours." Parker tossed Hardison's sunglasses at him and dropped with a huff into one of the black chairs, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Hardison gave her a wary look while he assessed his sunglasses for damage. "You didn't pocket them." It wasn't really an accusation, more of an observation.

"Not in the mood," mumbled Parker, dropping her chin to her arms.

Nate and Sophie exchanged a glance. The grifter was already worrying her bottom lip and Parker was pouting.

Nate took a deep breath and raised his hands in a calming motion, "Now c'mon guys, Eliot said not to worry. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

"He collapsed, Nate," Parker said scornfully, cutting a glare in his direction.

"Yeah, man, he really didn't look good," Hardison added.

Nate reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and Sophie stepped in, seeing emotions teetering close to the edge.

"Look, let's all just calm down, yeah? We'll do as Eliot says. Give him a few days, if he doesn't contact us…we'll look for him. How does that sound?"

She looked around at them."Okay then," she nodded, putting her hands on her lips. "How about some breakfast then?"

She turned toward the kitchen and Nate left the room by way of the spiral staircase. Hardison turned back around and shrugged at Parker, who rewrapped her arms around herself and frowned, biting her lip as she mumbled petulantly, "Eliot always makes breakfast."

* * *

_TBC- go ahead, tell me what you thought. I want to know. Really I do. __  
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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Okay, here's the thing. My life has gotten seriously hectic and busy and crammed full of family issues, school stuff and job crap (hehe adjetives) so I'm going to try really hard to respond to reviews, but don't sit up nights waiting for them, okay? And I really want to list everyone who reviewed by name because you guys are seriously the most rockin' awesome people every, but I just can't right now. I'm doing good to update my (three? four?) WIP fics in any kind of a timely fashion. Sorry! Please know I love you all and I love reading what you think (in quick snatches stolen from far stupider but somehow 'more important' things) so don't hesitate to throw me a review-bone, okay? Thanks! luvya lots. Oh! and much love to **_fluerlb _**who beta'd this for me! Enjoy! -pj

* * *

By the next day no one had heard from Eliot, and Hardison and Parker were practically kinetic with worry. Sophie had taken to biting her manicured nails clean off, and Nate was on his second beer of the morning.

"Alright," he snapped, and looked up at Parker, who had sat herself in the middle of his dining room table, hands in her lap, staring at him until he said the words she'd been waiting to hear. Sophie looked over from the movie she wasn't really watching.

"Hardison."

The hacker looked up, "Yeah?"

Nate sighed and looked from Sophie to Parker, who was already grinning.

"Find him."

"I don't get it. What's in Montana?" Parker asked, tossing her one duffel bag full of belongings beside Sophie's three suitcases in the cargo hold of Nate's plane. Hardison shook his head as he tossed in his own suitcase and slung his laptop bag across his shoulders.

"As far as I can tell? A whole lot of nothin'."

"Montana is the fourth largest state and home to Custer's last stand at Little Big Horn as well as the largest open pit copper mine in the country."

They both looked at Nate and the older man shrugged. "You pick stuff up."

"Yeah, well, as fascinating as that is, I seriously doubt Eliot went to Montana to see the big copper hole in the ground," Hardison said slowly, exchanging a wary glance with Parker, who shrugged and led the way onto the plane.

"C'mon guys," Sophie shouted from the door opening, "let's get this show on the road."

Parker stopped short and Nate and Hardison gave her curious looks as they passed.

The theif's eyes widened with horror, "Sophie's going to perform?"

"Washington, Montana. Population: 467," Sophie read off the sign as they drove into town, or what passed for town. A gas station, a liquor store, a pharmacy and a diner made up the main stretch, and extended on both sides with small boutiques and family-run businesses.

Parker blew the bangs off her forehead, crowded into the small backseat of the rented sedan with Hardison. She pressed her forehead against the window as she stared outside.

"You're sure this is where Eliot ended up, Hardison?" Sophie asked from the passenger's seat, frowning around at the scenery. 'One horse town' would have been stretching it.

Hardison gave her a 'are you kidding me' look. "Sophie, look, this is what I do. I know how to track someone, okay? He's not Parker. Dude wasn't exactly trying to hide his tracks. Used known aliases and cards to pay for everything, okay? He's here, alright? He's here."

"Okay, okay," Sophie raised her hands in surrender. "It was just a question is all."

They drove at a crawling pace, getting the full view of the town. There wasn't much to look at.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." They all looked over to see Nate nodding, smiling in the driver's seat. "I get it."

Hardison waited a minute and then, "What?"

"Hm? What?" Nate glanced around to see the other three all staring at them. "Oh I just, uh," he waved his hand vaguly, gesturing at the dusty, wornout-looking town. A couple of kids sat on the curb eating ice cream in the stifling heat of midday. A beat up Chevy truck pulled away from the hardware store with a load of boxes in the bed. "It suits him."

"Eliot?" Parker wrinked her nose and looked around. "This is a little bit…little. Even for him."

Nate nodded vigorously, turning into the parking lot at the diner, "That's my point."

The others would have asked what he meant, but Nate had already turned off the car and gotten out, and they were left with no choice but to follow.

Sophie pulled off her oversized sunglasses when she walked into the dimly lit diner. She was a bit overdressed for the establishment in brown Gucci cowboy boots, black leggings and a purple paisley shirt but with Hardison and Nate both dressed in plain jeans and t-shirt ensembles, it evened out.

Inside it looked like 'the diner that time forgot', with the white counters and red barstools of the fifties. A vintage and still working classic jukebox stood in the corner softly playing 'Ring of Fire' and they half expected the chalk menu on the wall above the counter to advertise burgers for 50 cents.

The sole patrons were a pair of older men in plaid and suspenders who were sharing the sports section of the newspaper in the corner booth and a young man in a black shirt and boots at the counter.

Parker stood beside Sophie in skinny jeans, red converse, an oversized flannel and a messy ponytail. "I think you're right Nate. This place even smells like Eliot."

Nate spotted a young girl, about seventeen, standing at the end of the counter near the cash register playing with her split ends, the stick of a sucker poking out of her mouth.

Her eyes brightened when she saw them, "Hey there, never seen you 'round here before. Can I help ya'?" she drawled, an accent much too thick and southern to have been from those parts.

"Um, yes, we're looking for a friend of ours that we think may be staying in town." Sophie said with a sweet smile.

The girl pulled the sucker out of her mouth, revealing a blue tongue and teeth.

"Well who is it? It's a small town so, if I don't know 'em I can probably point you toward someone who does." She winked at the boy at the counter, and he grinned back a dazzling dimpled smile before turning an openly curious look onto the visitors.

"Well that would be wonderful," Sophie smiled. "His name is Eliot Spencer."

The girls' eyes snapped over to her and all flirtation dropped away as the boy at the counter stiffened.

Parker frowned, noting the change. "What? What's the matter?"

The girl gave them all careful looks before turning around to shout through the opening in the wall into the kitchen.

"Uncle Mike! You better get out here."

The girl turned back around, almost glaring at team, and crossed her arms.

"What is it, Becks?" A large, round, bald man emerged from the back in a stained white t-shirt and apron, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"These people say they're looking for Eliot Spencer."

Mike didn't even blink. "Never heard of him."

The team frowned. The man lied smoothly but being of the profession they were, they knew it was exactly that. A lie.

"No, no, I don't think you understand," Sophie motioned to herself and the others, "we're friends of his, he'd taken ill a few days ago and we traced him here and we'd um, well, we'd just like to check on him and be sure he's alright."

Mike shook his head again, crossing his trunk- like arms over his chest. "Sorry. Can't help you."

Sophie visibly deflated and looked helplessly at Nate.

"Look, uh, my name's Nate Ford and I-"

"You're Nate Ford," the girl exclaimed, but quieted immediately at the sharp look her uncle gave her.

"Wait wait-" Nate held up his hands, seeing his name had gotten a reaction, "does that mean something to you guys?"

The man stayed quiet, and the boy at the counter had suddenly gotten very interested in his slice of pie.

Becks turned to Mike with an urgent look, "Uncle Mike," she whispered, but it was easy enough for them all to hear, "you remember what El said about Nate Ford."

"What? What did he say?" Hardison piped up.

The girl sighed. "He said we could trust him."

"Becks!" Mike exclaimed.

"No, he's right, you can," Sophie insisted. "We're friends of his, we work with Nate. I'm Sophie. This is Parker and that's Hardison."

Mike gave them long, assessing looks. "What is it you all do, again?"

Nate gave a small smile. "We provide Leverage."

"This is far as I dare go." Mike got out of his pick up and rounded to the back where the team was spilling out of their sedan. Becks rolled down the window of the door and sat on it, arms folded on the hood.

"El was very specific when he said not to enter the property when he was on it."

Parker nodded and smiled in a way that came off as condescending. "I think we can handle it."

"What she means is 'thank you'," Sophie stepped in quickly, smiling at the two people, "for everything."

The man shrugged one shoulder. "You better be who you say you are. If you're not, it's not me you'll have to deal with."

With that he got back in his car and drove off in a cloud of dust.

"Man, Eliot sure knows how to pick 'em," Hardison peered through his sunglasses and turned 360 degrees to see the surroundings. A dirt road extended toward the horizon in either direction, a corn field to the rear and in front of them, a log cabin house with a tin roof and brick chiminy was the lone structure as far as the eye could see.

Parker and Sophie started toward the door with a single-minded focus on getting to Eliot that would likely get them killed, so Nate called out to stop them.

"Hold on guys," Nate said, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose, "let's think about this a minute."

Sophie frowned and crossed her arms. "What? Why?"

Nate kept up scanning the outside of the seemingly benign house.

"It's a safe house, Sophie," he said meaningfully, "a hitter's safe house. You saw how the townies reacted to us." Nate saw that the team was still not quite on the same page as him. And they wouldn't be, would they? They hadn't spent the better part of eight months tracking the wary, paranoid, surprisingly bright young hitter across Tanzania.

"Imagine all of _your_ safe houses," he began, looking them each in the face. Nate made sure they had a few safe houses meant for the team or clients that needed protection, but he wasn't so deluded as to think each member of the team didn't have their own safe houses on the side. He waited until they had nodded.

"Alright, now imagine your safe houses if _Eliot_ were in charge of designing them." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and watched as understanding dawned on Sophie and Hardison's faces. Parker grinned.

"Yeah, you're right," Hardison nodded, opening his laptop on the trunk of the car, "let me scan for power output or any kind of motion sensors and video monitors."

"I'll check for booby traps," Parker announced, slinking toward the edges of the property.

Nate nodded and looked at Sophie , who was fidgeting a few feet away in the shade of a tall oak tree, having removed her big hat and sunglasses, staring worriedly at the small, worn-looking structure. She chewed the ends of her sunglasses worriedly.

He sidled up to her, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"I don't like it Nate," she said without looking at him. "He had to have known we would help him."

Nate sighed, shrugging, "Ah, you know Eliot, Sophie. Doesn't trust anybody enough to let them see him hurt. Not even us."

She sighed, dropping her hands to her side, "I know. Stubborn ass."

* * *

_TBC - more will be up as soon as humanly possible...in one of these verses. lol. Who's bright idea was it to have so many fics in the works at one time anyway?...oh yeah...__  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I know I know, it's been waaaay too long. lol. Sorry! Someone reminded me how longs it's been since I updated ::ahem::login::ahem, haha, so I got my little writin' booty busy! Well, in actuality my butt had nothing to do with it, other than a comfortable place for me to sit while I write... but sometimes I write on my stomach...and soemtimes back and forth...where was I? Oh yeah! Thanks for all the amazing reviews, you guys are what keep me coming back for more and, anyone who was wondering when E/P would come into this fic...keep reading. lol. Enjoy! –pj

**Disclaimer**: If they were mine, every con would require Hardison (did you SEE that man's guns in Bottle Job?) and Eliot (*thud*) going shirtless.

* * *

"You're sure you disarmed _all _the security protocols?" Parker asked, glancing up from where she knelt in front of the heavy front door that, although it looked like wood, upon closer inspection they'd found it to be metal. Probably titanium.

"Yes, look, Parker. This is what I do, okay?" Hardison said, exasperated.

Parker shrugged, "Okay fine." She stood up as the lock clicked out of place and took a step back, "After you."

Hardison blinked at her and Parker shook her head, "look, you didn't see the booby traps he has set up all over this property, okay? I need both hands and my tongue in working order to do my job," she motioned toward the entrance. "After. You."

Hardison hesitated a moment longer before bristling under the team's expectant gazes. With a deep breath, he slowly stepped inside.

"See? What did I tell-" He cut himself off with a startled squeak when a strong arm locked in a vice grip across his neck and jerked him backward and the rest barreled in after him.

Inside the room was bathed in darkness, except the light pouring in from the open door, but Nate had no problem finding the source of the noise, or Hardison's distress.

"Eliot, Eliot it's us. It's Nate." He raised his hands to be as non-threatening as possible,

"Let him go."

Hardison had both hands up clawing at the pressure on his neck, spots already dancing in front of his eyes as he gasped for air.

"Nate?" A raspy voice, undeniably Eliot's, came from just behind his right ear, and the pressure on his neck released.

"_Dammit _Hardison!"

Eliot pushed the hacker away and took a few steps backward, his hands on his hips as he doubled over slightly, breathing through a bout of intense dizziness that always rewarded sudden, strenuous movement.

Hardison coughed dramatically and caught himself on the wall, one hand massaging his neck.

Noticing Parker's grin, he scowled, "what's so funny?"

"You forgot to disarm one of the security measures," Parker answered, shifting toward the shadows away from the door. "Eliot."

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Eliot rasped, straightening and raking his hands through his hair and leaving one there, surreptitiously massaging his temple.

Parker and Hardison were both taken aback by his harsh tone, but Sophie stepped forward.

"I don't know if you remember Eliot, but…you collapsed."

Eliot squinted across the room at them and found himself feeling underdressed in only his sweatpants and bare feet.

"Yeah and?"

Sophie's eyebrows were nearly touching her hairline, "well…for most people that's a cause for concern."

"Well I ain't most people Sophie. I already told ya'll I was fine," he growled. But even as he did, he lifted both hands to his head, pressing slightly on the sides and clenched his jaw.

"You really don't look that great." Parker told him matter-of-factly, tilting her head slightly when he started taking slow, deep breaths.

Nate frowned, noticing the hitter's demeanor changing and took a half-step forward while, Hardison, eyes still locked on their ill teammate, stayed back at what he considered a safe distance.

Eliot closed his eyes, why did they all have to talk so damn _loud_? He pressed his hands to his temples, knowing it was going to telegraph his pain immediately but unable to bring himself to care.

He'd been doing alright before the team showed up. As long as he didn't move or open his eyes or breathe too deeply, he was fine. And then his 'last chance' alarm had been triggered by someone walking through the door and Eliot's adrenalin and self preservation reflex was engaged and he was launching himself out of bed toward the threat.

But now his nervous system seemed to have caught up with the fact that there was no real danger and shut off those survival instincts that had kept him going for so many years. And in their absence his migraine, amplified by movement, light and sound, returned to full force and then some.

Eliot swallowed hard and turned suddenly, hunching over what was apparently the kitchen sink, retching violently.

Nate sighed.

"Oh yeah. He's just dandy."

oooOOOooo

Eliot finished rinsing his mouth and turned around, not at all surprised to see the entire team staring at him from across the small dark space that made up his living, dining and kitchen areas at this safe house.

"Like you said," Parker quipped, "fine."

Eliot ignored her, sipping slowly on a glass of water, "somebody wanna get that door?"

Hardison kicked the door shut, never leaving his space on the wall or even letting his eyes move off Eliot.

"Hey, don't kick my door."

"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" Sophie demanded again, crossing her arms in a huff. Before she was concerned. Now she was getting annoyed.

Eliot tilted his head at her. Was that tone supposed to intimidate him?

Still. Standing was not really his best option right now, and the only way he was going to get anymore rest at this point, was to give the team what they came for.

Answers.

"Look," he sighed, placing his glass in the sink, "I just get these headaches sometimes. That's all. I'm not dying or anything."

"What kind of headaches?" Hardison asked.

"Bad ones."

Nate glanced around, taking in the blacked out, bulletproof windows, track lighting along the floors and wide open spaces between minimal furniture that allowed for easy movement with limited mobility and lots of things to grab onto should one say, start to suffer from a dizzy spell and find the ground approaching at unsettling speeds.

"Like migraines?" Nate guessed, in that tone that said it wasn't really a guess.

Eliot blew out a breath, turning his head and muttering, "such a sissy word."

Sophie threw her hands in the air, "a migraine Eliot? What's the big deal? Why didn't you say something? God, you had us thinking it was something serious!"

"Hey! It _is _serious. To me," Eliot found himself raising his voice, despite the way it made his head throb sharper than a knife's edge, momentarily fueled forward by his anger.

"When I get one of these damn things I can barely walk straight. Every sound feels like nails on a chalkboard in my head, I can't open my damn eyes in any kind of light. How am I supposed to do my job like that, huh? How am I supposed to watch my own back, let alone anyone else's?"

He took a step forward, surprising everyone with his harsh tone again, "At least with a broken bone or a bruise I can take some pain meds and deal but nothing' touches this." He took another step forward, thrusting a hand into Sophie's face, "I left because I needed a few days off. But you guys couldn't even give me that."

He blinked a few times and took a deep breath, squinting in pain.

"Look. I'm going back to bed. I don't want to be bothered."

"What do you want us to do?" Parker asked, her eyes having adjusted to the dark and tracking his muscular form as it moved across the room toward the opening of a hallway.

"Stay. Go. Don't really care. Just keep it down and _don't _touch anything."

oooOOOooo

"So is a Migraine like any other headache?" Parker asked, plopping down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn.

"Where'd you get that?" Sophie asked, pointing at the bowl.

"Cupboard, you want some?"

"Didn't Eliot say not to touch anything?" Sophie was not usually such a stickler for the rules, but after Eliot's outburst she'd been left feeling more like he was disappointed than angry at them and it was a very uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling.

Parker shrugged, "I was hungry."

"No, Parker, migraines are not like just any headaches." Nate answered her previous question, settling on the couch beside Hardison with a hip flask of something no one asked about.

"Nate's right. Migraines are described as 'intense unilateral, pulsating pain," Hardison read off his laptop, "symptoms include sensitivity to light and sound, dizziness, nausea and vomiting and can last anywhere from 4 to 72 hours'." He let out a low whistle, "damn."

Sophie hissed in sympathy, sitting facing Hardison and his laptop on the coffee table.

"Check it out; it says one of the causes of chronic migraines can be repeated blows to the head," Hardison looked up at the team, "sound like anybody you know?"

Nate leaned his elbows on his knees and Sophie bit her lip.

"What really gets me," the hacker continued, "is I once saw Eliot take on three professional bad guys twice his size when he had a concussion and two broken ribs and he barely flinched. Do you know how bad the pain must be for him to turn tail and run to this place the way he did?"

Sophie shook her head. "Poor Eliot. No wonder he wanted to be left alone. Probably the only way he could stand it."

Parker was frowning deeply and pushed her popcorn into Sophie's lap.

"Not hungry anymore."

oooOOOooo

Parker peeked into Eliot's room, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Just like in the main part, the windows were blacked out and dim track lighting illuminated the floor. It smelled like leather and pine needles in here. And Eliot's soap.

She slipped inside silently, seeing the hitter curled up in the middle of his huge wood carved bed. She tilted her head at the fur that was tossed over the foot of it, wondering if it was real.

"What do you want, Parker?"

Eliot's voice was strangely muffled and she craned her neck to see him better. He had both arms wrapped around his head and under a pillow.

Shifting from foot to foot, she scratched her elbow and shrugged.

"Came to see if you needed anything."

With a sigh, Eliot pulled his head out and laid it on top of his pillow, eyes still closed. "At this point, Parker, I've taken everything medically advised and a few things that ain't. I don't think you can give me anything else that would help."

There was silence for a few seconds and then the rustle of clothes and he almost asked what she was doing. Then a warm, soft pressure pushed against his lips and his eyes flew open.

He found Parker hovering over him, a few inches from his face, her eyes wide and oddly innocent looking.

"What was that for," he asked, for a moment able to forget the constant pounding behind his eyes.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth briefly, "I thought it might make you feel better. I don't like seeing you hurt." Her eyes skittered away from him and then back, "did it?"

Eliot couldn't help his lopsided grin, and he nodded, surprised, "yeah, actually. For a second."

Parker's face lit up in a grin that, to Eliot's surprise, was not maniacal, but sort of sweet. Honest.

Her eyes fell closed and she leaned in again, and this time, expecting the kiss, Eliot kissed her back. Tentative and shy before becoming hot and demanding, neither of them accustomed to the slow and steady approach.

Too soon, Eliot pulled away, a pink flush on his cheeks, lips tingling. "Parker I…I can't." He shrugged one shoulder, "I want to but-" he saw her face fall and reached up to cup her cheek, "I can't do you justice right now darlin'."

Disappointed, Parker nodded and started to straighten and pull away, but Eliot caught her wrist.

She looked back and saw him squinting even against the extremely minimal light from the floor, but making an effort to smile.

"You can stay if you want."

Another one of those sweet, honest smiles slid across her face, this one a touch softer than the last.

Eliot had never realized how much he liked it when Parker smiled before.

oooOOOooo

Nate peered around the corner into the hallway. Sophie had gone searching for Parker a few minutes ago and had yet to return. He was a little surprised and more than a little confused to find her standing outside Eliot's bedroom door, a soft smile on her face.

"Sophie, what are you-?"

The grifter turned around, pressing a finger to Nate's lips, and then raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, indicating he should look where she was. Uncertain but curious, Nate did.

Inside Eliot's room, no more light than what a handful of candles might provide illuminated two figures in the middle of Eliot's bed. Parker lay on her back, propped up against the headboard her face relaxed in sleep. One of her long fingered hands lay delicately on Eliot's head.

Eliot had his face pressed partially into Parker's stomach, one muscular arm wrapped around her waist, and Nate hoped he too was asleep.

Sophie pulled him down the hall a bit, still smiling.

"All men are the same. They get sick, and they get clingy."

Nate scoffed, "I don't get clingy."

Sophie turned and raised an eyebrow, "you once called me twenty-seven times in a single night because you had the flu and couldn't find the cough syrup."

"That's not clingy, that's an emergency."

"Dude, that's clingy." Hardison appeared from the bathroom, holding a magazine, "Did you know Eliot has a subscription to Maxim?"

Sophie and Nate blinked at him and replied simultaneously.

"Why would we care about that?" "Which issue does he have?"

Sophie gave him an incredulous look and Nate cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna go make some coffee," he said, and disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen. Sophie just shook her head and followed.

Ignoring them both, Hardison returned to the magazine, bending to the side slightly to see better in the floor lighting.

"Page 23," he said, grinning, "how _you _doin'?"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** So here it is, the end. Thanks to all you wonderful people who have read and **REVIEW**ed this the entire time. I love you guys the most. Except maybe for my beta, **_fluerlb_**, who's insights have been invaluable. Thanks so much to those of you that read and **ENJOY**ed but perhaps didn't feel compelled to review, I still love you, just not as much. Sorry. But I don't know who you are! I can't possibly love you as much. And, I don't love any of you as much as **Christian Kane**, but you really can't fault me for that. He's _"Eliot fuckin' Spencer"_. And as himself he's a hottie with a body who **FAVORITED ONE OF MY TWEETS TO HIM!** That's right. Be jealous. Haha, sorry for my obnoxiousness...I'll try to make up for it with the update. Enjoy! –pj

**Disclaimer**: I won nothing Leverage related but Christan Kane owns me. He doesn't even know it. But he does. Seriously. He says "jump" and I say "Uh-humprettyhair" and *thud*. So that's almost the same.

* * *

Eliot jerked awake and was immediately tense, trying to figure out what it was that had woken him in the first place.

He wasn't in his own bed in Boston. There was noise coming from somewhere else in the house and a presence beside him, a soft snoring, that he didn't completely recognize.

Any of these things on their own could have been enough to wake him.

Except he recognized the scent of his safehouse and knew the noise from the living room to be one of those annoying alerts from Hardison's laptop. And as for the presence beside him, he recognized it now, and he decided Parker was kind of cute when she snored.

Still, that left the question of what woke him. And then it hit him.

And Eliot smiled.

The pain was gone.

Eliot rolled over onto his back and sighed, relishing in a luxurious stretch and the feeling of his head not throbbing in a countdown to explode.

He rolled out of bed and got his blood pumping a little bit with a bout of jumping jacks and stretching unable to contain himself. Coming out of the pain fog was like coming alive for the first time.

He slipped into the ajoining bathroom for a few minutes and when he came out again, feeling refreshed and still no sign of a headache on the horizon, he was still smiling.

Usually healing from injury was a slow process. The quick bounce back from one of his migraines was a welcome change. He glanced over and saw Parker still laying in the bed, now curled around his pillow, one bare foot dangling off the edge.

The memory of the day before was still fresh in his mind and he found he was unable to resist a brief, warm brush of his lips across hers. She smiled a bit in her sleep and snuggled deeper into his mess of blankets, but didn't wake.

Eliot draped a woven blanket over her and silently left the room, heading for the living room, wondering where the rest of the team had holed up for the night.

He found them all huddled around Hardison's laptop. The hacker lay in a crumpled heap on the floor in front of the computer that was the source of the beeping he'd heard before. There was a stack of dvds beside it and Eliot was glad they seemed to have taken his 'don't touch' rule seriously.

Behind Hardison, Sophie and Nate in a tangled pile on the couch, the grifter's head lay on Nate's chest, their leader's arm locked securely around her waist.

Eliot snorted quietly to himself, wondering how they were gonna talk their way out of _that_ one and sure it was going to be amusing.

He went to the kitchen and quietly started collecting things to make breakfast.

oooOOOooo

Hardison awoke to the sound of coffee brewing, the smell of bacon sizzling and brightness on his face that hadn't been there before.

He blinked a few times and reached up to rub his eyes, his sleep muddled brain slowly processing his surroundings and bringing him fully into consciousness.

All the windows in the living and kitchen areas had been opened and, while there was still bulletproof glass between them and the outside, at least it didn't feel like a tomb anymore.

Hardison sat up slowly, his shoulders and back popping loudly as they recovered from the odd position he'd slept in. He frowned at the low battery beeping coming from his computer and shut the top, silencing it immediately.

Sophie yawned and stretched, smiling at the feeling of a full nights' sleep. She couldn't remember her bed being this comfortable before. She opened her eyes and rolled over, and was met with a days' worth of stubble and a black leather jacket.

"Nate!" she squeaked, and jerked in surprise, tumbling off the couch and onto the body below them.

"Hey! Damn Sophie!" Hardison cried out, pushing the flailing limbs off him. "He ain't gonna do nothin' to you. Looked like you were enjoyin' sleepin' like that anyway, woman. Shoot." He grumbled irritably.

"I know_ I_ did."

They both looked up to see Nate, still sporting red-eyes and bed-head, peeking over the edge of the plush leather couch at them both.

Sophie huffed, pulling herself up into a standing position, her knees and legs popping painfully.

"Cheeky bastard," she muttered, but didn't make any effort to hide the smile on her lips as she stumbled toward the kitchen. A few seconds later, the boys followed.

Spread out on the island counter, which they could now see was black granite and part of a rather impressive kitchen setup, were eggs, bacon, coffee, pancakes, orange juice and toast all made fresh.

"I take it you're feeling better," Sophie said, sliding onto a chair at the island. An affirmative grunt sounded from the hitter, who kept his back to them, still busy doing something at the stove.

Hardison let out a low whistle as he approached and picked up a plate to begin helping himself to a little bit of everything, "Eliot, where'd you get all this stuff? I woulda' heard you leavin' for the store."

Eliot turned around and brought a fresh pan of hash browns to the counter and set them on a hot pad.

"I get groceries delivered whenever I have time to call ahead," Eliot answered, nodding a 'good morning' to Sophie, who was nibbling delicately on a warm biscuit, and Nate who made a beeline for the coffee. "Mike always makes sure I got what I need."

After a few sips of coffee Nate felt more like a human and approached the breakfast feast Eliot had prepared.

"Eliot, you uh, you really outdid yourself here." He commented, eyes roaming over each platter slowly, taking it all in.

Eliot shrugged and Sophie tilted her head, it wasn't like him to avoid eye contact.

"Eliot?" She said carefully, not wishing to provoke an outburst like the day before.

He glanced up and found all three of them staring. He sighed, tossing the dishtowel over his shoulder to the sink and bracing his hands against the counter.

"Look, I uh," he looked at Sophie, "sorry 'bout snappin' at you."

Sophie looked taken aback by his admission. Stunned, she nodded shortly, "and I'm, or," she glanced at Nate and hardsison, "_we_, are sorry too. For not respecting your privacy."

Eliot nodded and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest, more than a little uncomfortable with the 'touchy feely' direction this conversation was going.

"Yeah well," he shrugged again ignoring Nate's slightly amused stare on his skin and taking solace in the fact that Hardison had completely tuned them out, wolfing down the breakfast like a man possessed.

"I guess next time I have a headache like that I can just let you guys know or something."

Sophie smiled slightly as if she'd won something. "That would be nice."

"Dude, as far as I'm concerned," Hardison interjected between bites, "if you keep making breakfast like this you can do whatever the hell you want."

Eliot rolled his eyes, but was smiling when he went to the refrigerator for some fruit.

Nate sidled up to Sophie, looking about ready to start poking at the food when Parker appeared at the end of the hallway.

Her blue eyes quickly surveyed the scene, from her sleep wrinkled teammates, to the piles of delicious smelling food, to Eliot, who was concentrated on cubing melons near the window, humming softly with the radio.

She padded across the kitchen and met Eliot's smile with a smirk of her own. Eliot turned back to his cutting board, keeping up appearances for the team, and missed the knowing look that passed between Nate and Sophie entirely.

Parker went to pour herself a cup of coffee and, clutching the mug in her hands, she hopped up onto the counter, grinning like mad.

Hardison looked up after finishing off his orange juice and caught her grin.

"What is it Parker?"

The blonde reached out to snag a piece of bacon, her heels banging the cupboard doors.

Parker smiled harder when they all turned to look at her, waiting for her to answer. She answered with a contented sigh.

"Eliot always makes breakfast."

END


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